


Vanilla Twilight

by Novaviis



Series: Watercolour [17]
Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Basketball, Bat Family, Depression, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Moving On, Post-Endgame, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 14:49:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12111078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Novaviis/pseuds/Novaviis
Summary: After moving back into Wayne Manour, Dick's family struggles to bring him out of his depression. Slowly, Dick begins to realize that he doesn't have to feel so alone.





	Vanilla Twilight

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a fucking sucker, okay? I'm a sucker.

 

Dick grunted as he set the last box down, standing up with a long stretch. His forearm came up to wipe his brow, pushing away a few seat soaked strands of hair. Looking around his old bedroom, Dick took in the mounds of boxes to be sorted through and for a moment just let himself be overwhelmed by it all. He didn't know where to begin, and in all honesty, he didn't want to. It had been a long day. Or evening, really it hadn't taken all that long to unload his boxes from the truck. But the anticipation of its arrival, the dread of having to sort through everything _again_ had left Dick listless all afternoon. Now that it was finished, he felt the – well, the finality of it gradually pouring over him.

He'd been living back at Wayne Manor for about a week now. After loading up the moving truck with everything form the apartment in California, he'd taken the short Zeta tube trip back to Gotham, with nothing but a gym bag of clothes to tie him over. The truck had taken a week to make it cross-country, with rest stops and a day or so in Kansas to account for. Wally's parents had taken most of his things; clothes to donate, keepsakes to either put out on the fireplace mantel or tuck away in the attic. Dick had, as he finished unloading found one out of place box. It'd been a different brand than the others, sealed with duct tap and all around more 'new' looking than the others. On it had been written “For Dick” in Mrs. West's familiar script.

That had been the last box Dick brought in. He set it down, and while curiosity smoldered on in the back of his mind, he just couldn't bring himself to touch it just yet. He didn't know what was inside, but he knew it would be something _sentimental_ and he just didn't want to have to deal with that yet. The reality of moving back in with Bruce was starting to settle over him like a wet blanket.

Living with Bruce wasn't the problem, though their relationship had hit a rough patch when Dick became Nightwing. It wasn't perfect, but it was familiar, and comforting as it was, that was the problem. Too familiar. A blessing and a curse, because while his childhood home brought him a sense of stability, even _this_ place was too filled with Wally.

And that was how Dick was left standing out of sorts in the middle of his bedroom, just starring at his surroundings. He could almost see sheets and christmas lights strung up around his bed, every sleepover as kids, every time they'd fallen asleep after long study sessions, every time they'd fought in there, and every time they'd made up. Midnight calls after nightmares, spending hours just texting each other about nothing at all, it was all just – not so much hitting him, more like lapping at his ankles as the metaphorical water rose up to his chest and compressed his lungs. Too familiar.

Dick groaned, rubbing his palm down his face. He was starting to realize that there wouldn't be a single place that wouldn't remind him of Wally. That this was going to be how life was from now on. Just reminders.

So, Dick decided quite resolutely that he wasn't going to unpack tonight. Moving boxes so that he could make it to his bed, Dick flopped down on his back with a heavy sigh. There were still glow-in-the-dark stars plastered to his ceiling. He wondered idly how long those things were supposed to last. Pretty sure they were about ten years old by now, he remembered putting them up there not long after he first moved in. Wally had made fun of them the first time he came over, but then immediately bought a pack and put them on his ceiling, something his mother had _not_ been impressed with – shit, this wasn't working.

Dick stretched his arms up and folded them under his head. May as well try to get some sleep. He could unpack tomorrow morning, do a bit of training in the gymnasium to relieve some stress as a reward when he was finished. Still, he couldn't so much as close his eyes without feeling the heavy atmosphere settle over him. He was just missing Wally. Dick lowered a hand from beneath his head, idly twisting his fingers in the chain that hung around his neck, the ring it held sliding around. His eyes cracked open, drifting out the window at the pastel dusk settling over the Manor grounds.

He stayed there for an hour, just laying awake, before he heard movement down the hall, and voices downstairs. Moment later, there was a knock at the door. Dick sighed and pushed himself up. “Door's unlocked,” he called.

Tim pushed the door open slowly, the hinges complaining as he stepped into the room and leaned against the frame. He was dressed in his civvies, an unzipped hoodie over skinny jeans. Bare brown eyes swept the room before settling on his adopted brother.

Dick swung his legs off the side of his bed. “Hey Tim,” he attempted a smile. “How was the mission?”

Tim shrugged. “It was alright. Just a stake out, nothing too exciting,” he admitted as he crossed his arms.

“Sometimes nothing exciting happening is a good thing,” Dick smirked. The expression was slowly on his way to being genuine. “How's the team?”

“They're doing good. A few of the newer guys were a little wary of Kaldur at first, but I think they're really starting to trust him.”

“Yeah, he told me,” Dick replied. “That's good though, means they're thinking critically.”

“Yeah,” Tim nodded. “They, uh... they miss you, y'know.”

Dick only nodded. There wasn't anything he could really say to that. He meant it when he said he needed a break. He couldn't go back yet, wasn't ready. And while there was a part of him that was itching to get on the field, that believed a bit of action and adrenaline was what he needed to get back on his feet, he knew it would be a bad idea. He'd be doing it for the wrong reasons, and he'd be distracted – a liability. It would be best for everyone if he kept his distance for a while, even if they didn't know it.

Sensing that he'd broached a sensitive subject, Tim backpedaled. “Anyway,” he stammered, “Babs is here. She was on support for the stake out. Though that maybe we could help you unpack.”

Dick brushed his hand back through his hair. “Uh, maybe not tonight, Tim. It's been a long day, I was just going to do it tomorrow.”

“Right,” Tim nodded. “Well... we're thinking about throwing a movie on or something. You in?”

Dick's brows pulled together. He closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath, feeling that water rising up again, the pressure closing in around his chest. “Not tonight,” he repeated.

Tim's arms dropped in defeat. “Alright, well,” he braced a hand on the door as he stepped back into the hall, “we'll be downstairs if you need anything.”

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Tim had only been around for about a year and a half. He knew that it really hadn't been that long, but – this was his family now. Seeing Dick, a man he'd looked up to since the moment he met him, so despondent was difficult. There wasn't exactly a hallmark card for this, nothing made of cardboard and glitter that said “Sorry your boyfriend got vaporized out of thin air, cheer up”. Tim had never been under any delusions over the reality of this lifestyle, had never wavered in his determination since he became Robin, but that didn't make it any easier when hardships hit so close to home.

Walking into the kitchen, Tim found Barbara sitting at the island counter, bringing a mug of tea down from her lips as Bruce poured himself a coffee. They'd been talking quietly, and stopped as Tim walked in, their attention narrowing down to the boy. Tim shook his head. “No luck,” he reported.

Barbara sighed, lowering her mug onto the marble counter top. She'd abandoned her Batgirl uniform in favour of jogging pants and a t-shirt, long auburn hair pulled up in a pony tail. “Guess it was a long shot, anyway,” she sighed.

Tim made his way over to the island and jumped up on one of the stools. He reached for the coffee pot, only for Bruce to wordlessly tap his hand away and slide a bottle of water his way instead. Tim made a face, but didn't argue, cracking open the cap as Bruce leaned against the opposite countertop. “I managed to get a smile out of him at least,” Tim said.

“This is Dick we're talking about,” Bruce grunted as he stirred his coffee. “Just because he smiles doesn't mean he's not hurting. That's just the way he is. It's how he tries to cope.”

Tim's shoulders dropped. “Never seem him like this.”

Barbara reached over, placing her hand on Tim's shoulder with a comforting squeeze. “He just lost the love of his life, Tim. It's going to take some time for him to heal.”

“I know,” Tim groaned in mounting frustration. “I just – I wish there was a way we could help him, y'know? Even if just for a bit, just to get his mind off it.”

For a long while, there was no response. Every eye turned down to their beverages, losing themselves in their own thoughts. Barbara swirled the teabag in her mug, brushing away loose strands of hair from her face. Bruce, standing on the other side of the counter, took a long sip from his coffee and pushed himself upright. Setting his mug down, he walked around his two protegees and looked out the window into the courtyard. “I think I may have an idea.”

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Dick had resigned himself to a sleepless night at this point. In all honesty, he hadn't slept properly in about two days, and even before that it had been dicey. Couldn't be helping his mental state, but in turn that was why he couldn't sleep, and it was all just snowballing into a giant fucking mess. Well, if he couldn't beat it, no sense in fighting it. After Tim had left, Dick resumed his previous position, stretched out on his bed just staring at the ceiling. He'd given up on tossing and turning, hadn't even bothered to pull the covers up. No point, as far as he saw it. He'd end up falling asleep in the middle of his boxes while unpacking tomorrow, or on a bench in the gymnasium.

Dick had brought out his phone at some point, and began scrolling through his social media feeds just to kill time. He thought it might be a good distraction, but in the end only served to remind him that the world was slowly rebuilding from the Reach Invasion, moving on, and somehow he felt left behind. There were pictures from High School friends, teammates, posts about shit that didn't _matter_ , all of it just – white noise. So much for a distraction.

A knock on the door nearly made Dick drop his phone right on his face. As it was, it slipped from his hands but he managed to catch it again in time. Dick huffed in frustration. Didn't even bother sitting up this time. “Tim, look, I told you, I'm just not up for a movie tonight,” he called toward the door.

Despite his implied decline to come in, the door opened, and a figure entered. Dick groaned, sitting up only to find Alfred standing in the doorway, upright and unperturbed by Dick's rudeness. Dick immediately cringed. “Ah, sorry, Alfred. I thought-”

Alfred raised a gloved hand. “I know very well what you thought,” he replied before folding his arm behind him. “Master Bruce wishes to see you.”

Dick could have rolled his eyes if he knew Alfred wouldn't hesitate to scold him for it. God forbid the world didn't stop for Bruce Wayne. Not in the mood for a confrontation, Dick nodded and reluctantly dragged himself out of bed. “Lead the way, then.”

Alfred lead him down to the first floor of the Manor, through the ancient halls and, more suspiciously, past Bruce's office. Dick frowned at they walked by the familiar door, eyeing the back of Alfred's head, but not saying anything. They hadn't hesitated at the Library door, and Dick would have figured that if Bruce was in the Cave, they'd have taken that entrance down. If Bruce wasn't in his office or the Bat Cave, Dick was entirely lost on where he'd be.

Finally, Alfred stopped at the back door, just off the kitchen leading out into the courtyard. The old butler opened the door for Dick and gestured to step outside. Giving Alfred a confused look as he passed, Dick walked out. He didn't get two steps before he was suddenly being accosted by a basketball bounced his way. He caught it just before it his his chest, eyes snapping up. Bruce was standing a few feet in front of him, Tim and Babs on either side. “What's this?” he asked on reflex.

Bruce only grinned, one of those rare smiles reserved only for family. “Training,” he answered. The moment he spoke, a similar scene roused from Dick's memory. “Hand eye coordination.”

Dick was left speechless for a moment. He glanced between his family and the orange ball in his hands. A laugh bubbled up from his chest, spilling out in one gust as he shook his head. When he looked up again, he was smiling. Genuine. This wouldn't solve everything, and he knew the others recognized that. Maybe that was why it was so meaningful. Dick dropped the ball, dribbling it twice under his hand before catching it again. “Two on two?”

Bruce turned his chin up. “If you think you can handle it.”

They played Bruce and Tim versus Dick and Babs. For an hour, they four of them played, holding nothing back short of actual combat – odd, for a family game of basketball, but they were an odd family to begin with. Bruce had been holding back as defense until Dick had managed to flip over him to score a point. Then, it had gotten serious, and the laughter echoing off the court grew louder. Alfred even had glasses of ice water with _lemon_ waiting on the sidelines when they needed to take a break mid way. They were pretty evenly matched, but in the end, Bruce and Tim had won. Dick almost preferred it that way. Meant they weren't going easy on him out of pity. That didn't stop him from taunting his mentor and predecessor through out the game. For that hour, Dick wasn't thinking about Wally. He wasn't really thinking at all. Only consumed with the realization that he _had_ this family, that the circle of people who cared for him was only ever growing. That he wasn't alone, and he didn't have to be.

When finally they decided to call it quits, Dick certain they'd have a rematch at some point in the future before excusing himself for a long, cool shower. Standing under the refreshing stream, he scrubbed the sweat and grim of the day away. Honestly, he hadn't really showered in a few days. It had just slipped his mind. He was long overdue anyway. Stepping out feeling significantly more human, Dick walked back into his bedroom.

The first thing his eyes stopped on was the box from Wally's mother. Pausing with a towel in his hair, another wrapped around his waist, Dick took a slow breath and continued drying off. After throwing on a pair of boxers and sweats, he finally knelt down next to the box and began prying the duct tape off. You'd think Mrs. West was preparing the box for a trip to hell and back with how securely she'd wrapped it. Finally, when Dick managed to open it, he pushed the flaps back to reveal a little white envelope sitting on top of it contents.

Dick plucked the envelope out of the box, half surprised it wasn't wrapped in duct tape as well, he slide a finger under the flap and ripped it open, taking out a folded piece of paper.

_Dick,_

_I thought these might make you smile. We love and miss him so much, and I want you to know we love you too. Call us if you ever need anything, darling. Keep in touch._

_Mary West_

[Dick pursed his lips](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vzxTSjmBgW0). He knew he'd never been Rudolph West's favourite, far from it, but Wally's mother had never been anything but kind – if not a little awkward after Wally was outed. Setting the letter side, Dick began pulling the contents out of the box. The first thing he pulled out was a round tin filled with Mrs. West's famous Vanilla Sugar Cookies. There were a few broken ones from the long trip, but one sweet bite told Dick that they hadn't lost their freshness on the journey. He munched on the cookie as he pulled out a few photos of himself and Wally as kids, a little fox plushie that Dick had won for him at a fair, and other little sentimental objects. At the bottom, Mary had packed several of Wally's favourite sweaters and t-shirts. Ones that she had no doubt noticed used to go missing because Dick would steal them all the time. Dick swallowed, convincing himself that his throat only felt dry because of the cookies. Reaching into the box, he pulled out the first sweater, Wally's Stanford University hoodie, and just burried his face in it. He could still catch the lingering scent of his mint shampoo, his soap and old spice body spray. Dick breathed it in, committing the scent to memory before slipping it on.

It was a poor substitute for Wally's arms around him, but it was as close as he was going to get. If he closed his eyes, he could almost feel the phantom pressure around his waist as Wally would so often come up from behind to hug him. He solid chest against his back, the chin on his shoulder, lips against the side of his neck – Dick used the cuff to wipe at his eyes as he glanced inside the box one more time.

Sitting at the bottom, against the cardboard, was of all things a back of strawberry pocky. Dick thought he might cry – but strangely enough he didn't. If anything, he felt a wave of calm wash over him. He didn't know how Mrs. West knew. Maybe Wally told her, or maybe she'd known for a lot longer than either of them had realized. In any case, Dick didn't think too much about it. Smiling to himself, he reached into the box and pulled out the package.

He didn't open it until he was outside. Sitting on the rooftop of Wayne Manor, amoung the massive peaks, Dick had climbed out his window just to sit in the quiet for a while. Somewhere he could breathe. Ripping open the cardboard and the plastic bag inside, Dick pulled out a stick and chewed on the candy coated end.

He sat up there until twilight broke. Watched the stars fade into lilac and light blue, felt every soft breeze roll over his face, and was content. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, he was in a loose definition of peace. His hands felt empty, and his chest roared quietly, but it was an ache he could manage. He could breathe, finally, without feeling like he was about to drown.

It was a bittersweet realization. Dick was surrounded by all these people who loved and cared about him, he wasn't alone in any definition, but he'd never felt so isolated in his life. For the past week, he'd been trying to fix that, to distract himself from thinking about the one person out of all of them that he loved the most and wasn't there.

For the first time, Dick didn't feel that he needed a distraction. Didn't feel the need to avoid thinking about Wally all together. And for the first time, he didn't feel so alone. He sat up on the roof, watching the sky change colour, tranquil in his thoughts of Wally. One day, this would be easier. He could give himself permission to move on without forgetting Wally entirely, and that might not happen right away, but Dick was at peace with that.

There wouldn't be a day that he wouldn't miss him. And that was okay.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ten fics into the series already. Wow. Thank you so much to everyone who has supported me so far. I wouldn't have had the motivation to get this far without you, I mean that. I have so much more planned for this series. To then next ten!


End file.
